


meat cute

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Autistic Hermann Gottlieb, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Humor, Meet-Cute, Mild Blood, Multi, mlm/wlw solidarity, tw theater majors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: The night rapidly has descended into a menagerie of discontent like so: Karla cornered him in the dining hall, presenting the screen of her phone to him like trying to feed a wild tasmanian devil, and casually suggested they check out the haunted house that had sprung up a few minutes from campus that evening.“No,” said Hermann, using a fork to neatly separate the different vegetables on his plate into their respective groups and eating order.“It’s not even that scary!” Karla tried, and pointed to the “ten-plus” sign at the bottom of the picture. “They wouldn’t let ten year olds in a haunted house if it was too upsetting. They’d get sued.”Or: an old school butch, a girl who dresses like feather-boa-and-glasses Kermit the Frog, and Alan Turing reincarnated as a whippet, walk into a haunted house. Newt Geiszler walks into a tree. What happens next will warm your heart.
Relationships: Hermann Gottlieb & Karla Gottlieb, Hermann Gottlieb & Vanessa Gottlieb, Karla Gottlieb/Vanessa Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	meat cute

**Author's Note:**

> quick note: the fact that i'm writing karnessa should be a dead giveaway but i am a lesbian and as such i will say dyke in my stories however i please. if that word brings bad vibes for you, however, it's the last word of the first sentence. ty to evie for the beta and find me @shakesexual on twt and bae-science on tumblr

In their close, homosocial, some might say tri-dependant relationship, Karla and Vanessa have given Hermann a boon: he gets to say “dyke”.

Only once, and this is simply because they know he would never do it. He’s barely out himself, despite almost purposefully dressing like every gay man from the early-to-mid 1900s for nearly all of his life. One time he did download Grindr, but that was on a dare after two mini bottles of butterscotch schnapps, proximal endorphins, and Vanessa’s “Jingle Juice”, created to approximate the effect of the drug from _Riverdale_ the characters do like pixie stix, and to pretty accurate results. 

(He deleted it after five minutes and a single message telling him he looked like he had “a dick like a Monster can”, which Hermann honestly wouldn’t know. He’s never touched one of those pre-packaged heart attacks in his life.)

The point is that Hermann gets one single time he can call his sister and best friend a slur, and he would absolutely never, _ever_ do that, exceptー

Except.

They’re sort of acting absolutely intolerable.

The night rapidly has descended into a menagerie of discontent like so: Karla cornered him in the dining hall, presenting the screen of her phone to him like trying to feed a wild tasmanian devil, and casually suggested they check out the haunted house that had sprung up a few minutes from campus that evening. 

“No,” said Hermann, using a fork to neatly separate the different vegetables on his plate into their respective groups and eating order. 

“It’s not even that scary!” Karla tried, and pointed to the “ten-plus” sign at the bottom of the picture. “They wouldn’t let ten year olds in a haunted house if it was too upsetting. They’d get sued.”

“How lucrative for them. No.” He took a bite of cauliflower. Karla’s eyes became more adjacent to those of a kicked puppy.

“It also says it’s epilepsy safe?”

Hermann shot her a look. “Which applies…”

“No flashing lights, no visual overstimulation, and everyone else will have their hands over their ears anyway! Hermann, please?” She wiggled her phone back and forth slightly, frown deepening. “‘Nessa and I really want to go, and it’s not the same without you there.”

“It’s not the same because the two of you wouldn’t have anyone to annoy via canoodling, and thus not as fun,” Hermann said. The cauliflower was worse than usual. He considered going back to the condiment station for more pepper. 

Karla sighed. “We’ll let you pick the movie next time.” Hermann raised an eyebrow. She sighed again. “Any genre. No complaints.”

Well.

Hermann dons his leisure sweater vest (argyle instead of solid color), digs out the good earplugs, and helps Karla spend twenty minutes selecting which of her five pairs of combat boots to wear, then another ten standing around as his sister takes a thousand pictures of Vanessa’s “spooky” makeup look for her Instagram, and by the time they finally arrive at the quite frankly uninspired exterior of the building, it’s already nine o’clock.

He pulls a granola bar from his jacket pocket and makes it through half as Vanessa buys their tickets. The night air is crisp and biting with windchill, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet as he shifts his weight a little more onto his cane. He hopes they go somewhere warmer after this, perhaps the diner a few blocks away. 

Vanessa returns with their three slips of paper, and they fall in line behind a group of freshman Hermann remembers from his TA assignment. He wonders if they’d recognize him, casual and surrounded by friends rather than books and his laptop. Two of the boys are holding hands, bumping each other’s shoulders and laughing nervously under their breaths. Hermann feels a slight pang from somewhere around his sternum. Perhaps he does need to put himself out there a bit more.

“Look alright?” Karla asks him. He appraises the plastic jack-o-lanterns placed outside the front door, which is covered in fake cobwebs and a sticker supposed to look like a splatter of fake blood. A stray, hungover-sounding groan comes from the window near them. Vanessa glances at the other two.

“Didn’t Alpha Chi Omega hold their costume contest last night?”

Karla snickers, “Oh, those poor actors. I hope at least the break room is quiet.”

Hermann rolls his eyes, “I think I’ll be fine, Karla. A little fake blood shouldn’t frighten any of us.”

“Needles at the ready if anyone tries to grab you, bud,” says Vanessa with a smile. Hermann frowns.

“Vanessa, don’t you have a co-pay for those?”

“I think the guy at the CVS counter is in love with me; I’m not worried.” She snickers and gives Karla a light jab with her elbow. “Sorry, king.” Hermann shakes his head.

“Please do not stab the hungover theater majors. That makes them infinitely worse.”

When they reach the front of the line, a bored-looking teenager in massive sugar skull earrings and black lipstick holds out her free hand for their tickets. The other is typing something on her phone.

“No touching the props or actors, no alcohol, no food or drink, no sex in the UV maze, no vaping. Beware of our scares, enter if you dare,” she says in a flat, rushed monotone. Hermann glances at the girls, who shrug.

“Er, alright,” he says, and steps inside.

The place is… uninspiring to say the least. A ghost obviously bought straight from Spirit Halloween hangs over the hallway, occasionally lighting up orange and giving a mechanical cackle. They pass beneath it and enter a room filled with dirty porcelain dolls, eyes staring blankly and dressed in outfits Hermann swears Karla and Bastien had to wear to temple as children. The next room simply has a giant spiderweb covering one wall, and a mechanical black window twitching it’s legs. Vaness smirks.

“Scarlett Johansen giving us the Asian rep. in horror we deserve!” she quips faux-cherrily. Karla lets out an ugly snort. 

“How many rooms are there?” asks Hermann. He’s considering sneaking a few more bites of that granola bar. 

They enter a larger space made to look like a bloodstained hospital complete with corpses on gurneys, a nasty-looking doctor holding a bone saw, and various, bubbling jars. Hermann and Vanessa lock eyes, pause, and then immediately burst into laughter. The doctor looks extremely put-off.

“Um. Welcome to Boneville Sanatorium,” he says in a low voice, which only makes Karla start to snicker.

“Boneville? Oh Christ, fire whoever came up with that.”

“Would you like to make a donation to the… organ bank?” the actor grits out, now clearly caught between being affronted and confused. Vanessa wheezes.

“Please! Take my pancreas! This bitch has been dead weight for seventeen years! Literally living in my body rent free!” She clutches Karla’s arm for support, holding out a hand in case Hermann needs it. In actuality, he’s put one over his mouth in an attempt to rein in his laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells the disgruntled actor, who’s entirely dropped character in favor of crossing his arms. “We’ve had a bit of prior experience withー you’re doing a fine job, I’m sure.”

“Can you guys just go, please? You’re holding up the other groups.” The actor twirls his saw around like a color guard rifle, shifting uncomfortably. Vanessa takes in a deep breath and pushes it out through her mouth. 

“Omigod, yes, sorry,” she says, stumbling forward a bit as she composes herself. “C’mon, guys.”

They push through the doorway to the next room, Hermann hiccuping once or twice from holding his laughter in, and find themselves surrounded by clowns splattered with glow-in-the-dark paint. Hermann assumes it’s supposed to be alien blood, based on the planets hanging from the ceiling alongside plastic ray guns and knives, and the small gray mass bursting from one of the clown’s stomach. He gives it a wary look. 

“Oh, that’s bloody disgusting.”

Vanessa scrunches her chin back so it’s pressed against her neck in a gesture of perturbed agreement. “Yeesh. That’s not gonna be covered by healthcare.” She glances over at Karla, who’s checking something on her phone, and a grin spreads across her face. _Oh no_ , Hermann thinks. He knows what that means.

“Babe, this room is really scary,” she simpers, sidling up to Karla and pressing one shoulder against her side, “aren’t you soooo scared?”

Karla looks up from the _New Yorker_ article she’s been adding to her reading list and blinks. “Oh, no. I’ve seen worse than this while walking past the fine arts building.”

Vanessa flutters her eyelashes and looks down at her, “Wow, that’s sooooo brave of you. I’m really scared, though. Will you hold my hand?”

Karla takes in the Tiktok-art-whore-chic of their surroundings, her girlfriend’s expression, and gets the memo. She immediately curls an arm around Vanessa’s shoulders protectively and takes the hand furthest from her. “Of course, darling. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” says Vanessa, not-so-subtly putting her hand in Karla’s back jean pocket. Hermann sticks his tongue out of his mouth and makes a gagging sound. 

“If you two are done groping each other?” he sniffs, rolling his eyes at the way Vanessa winks. “Some of us would like to get through this before next week.”

“Salt lick’s getting cranky,” she replies, but thankfully begins walking again alongside Karla. Hermann wonders if, really, Grindr was all _that_ bad.

They pass through a few more rooms before the exit, each some slapdash high-concept with more fervor put into design than execution. An actor in a _Scream_ mask and a bed sheet covered in red paint jumps out at them, causing Hermann to raise his cane like a baseball bat before collecting himself. There’s another hospital room, this time a dentist’s office. Then a room full of pumpkins stabbed with kitchenware. It seems like they were running out of ideas.

The last door lets out into the parking lot behind the building, with chalk arrows drawn on the concrete making a path back around the side. It doesn’t look particularly spooky; there are a few cars parked, and little sectioned off green spaces with a single tree and some mulch. One of the cars has jack-o’-lantern “ears” clipped to the front windows. 

“Well,” says Hermann briskly, pulling his jacket tighter around him, “that was disappointing, and expected. Shall we find somewhere to eat, then?”

The sound of a chainsaw revving behind them swallows up Karla’s answer. Hermann spins around to see a man in a hockey mask running at them, holding a chainsaw aloft and wearing nothing but jeans, Dr. Martens and a bloodstained, white tank top. 

The girls shriek with terror and delight, sprinting along the arrows’ path and towards the other side of the lot. Hermann stands his ground.

When the man is close enough, he draws himself up to his full height, scowls, and snaps, “Excuse you! Do I _look_ like someone who will be partaking in this section?”

He feels quite daring about the whole thing until the man turns from watching Vanessa and Karla to look at him, keeps staring, and runs directly into a tree.

_Thwack._

“Son of a motherfucking _bitch_!” he shouts, fumbling with his mask from where he’s crashed onto the ground of one of the green spaces. Hermann claps a hand over his mouth in shock, realizes he must look quite rude, and hurries over.

“Areー are you alright?” he asks, nervously gripping his cane with both hands before finally deciding to carefully lower himself next to the man. His mask seems to have protected him from the worst of the damage, with just a red patch on his head that’s already begun to swell slightly, and blood trickling from his nose onto his shirt. He tosses the mask aside and touches the blood, wincing at his finger coming away wet.

“Aw shit. Fuck!” Hermann quickly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his handkerchief, offering it. At last, the man seems to notice him.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermann says, setting his cane aside. “Iー I didn’t mean to be rude, and I’m sure it’s quite dark out hereー”

The man is staring at him very oddly, eyes as wide as hockey pucks. His mouth hangs partway open. Hermann frowns. Perhaps he hit his head harder than first assumed. “Canー do you know where you are?”

“Hi,” says the man in a high, squeaky voice. The red patch has somehow spread down to his cheeks as well. “I’m Newt.”

“Erー I’m Hermann.” Hermann is still holding out the handkerchief, and beginning to feel quite foolish. “Are you alright?”

“Oh!” Newt seems to remember himself and quickly takes the handkerchief, wiping the blood from his upper lip before shoving it up one nostril. “No, I’m good. I’ve had worse.” He gives Hermann a bright, cheery grin that makes his eyes almost sparkle under the light of the streetlamps. 

Hermann feels something funny turn in his stomach. He clears his throat. “Yes, well, still, I apologize. You were just doing your job.”

Newt laughs, giving Hermann a jerky shrug. “Hey, I mean, this probably lets me get off for the night. It’s fucking freezing out here anyway.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t very covered upー” Hermann gestures to Newt’s top half, a series of colorful tattoos now slightly more visible in the light, “ーup there”. Jellyfish, anemone, sharks, coral; a riot of bright pinks and blues and sea creatures swimming their way up and down his arms. Newt notices him looking and smiles wider.

“Yeah, not the spookiest, I know, but they wanted the wife beater.” He makes a face at the name. “I bring my own chainsaw, though, so I’m sort of irreplaceable in the budget department.”

Hermann blinks. He glances over at the item in question, flung a few feet away after Newt had crashed into the tree. “This is yours?”

“I use it in the campus greenhouse.” Newt inclines his head in the general direction of the road. “I hold some of my classes there, and sometimes there’s trees that need pruning, or bigger samples; y’know.” 

Hermann takes a harder look at Newt; he _does_ look familiar… He knows he would remember tattoos like that (and perhaps eyes that startlingly green. Or blue? Or hazel; it’s a bit hard to tell, and Hermann is beginning to feel rather flushed). Certainly he has a smile Hermann would have looked twice at had they passed each other on campus. 

Newt raises an eyebrow, and Hermann realizes he’s been caught staring. Bugger. “Er, yesー you’re that fellow with all the doctorates: Newton Geiszler. I came to a lecture of yours on theoretical evolutionary xenobiology.” He allows himself a sniff, “I disagreed with a few of your more ludicrous points, but I’ll admit it was an engaging hour spent.”

Newton snorts, “Gee, thanks. Weren’t you the guy who asked me if I stole that bit about echolocation from _Star Trek_?”

Hermann’s face is now entirely red, “Well there were certainly a few similarities.”

A corner of Newton’s smile quirks further upwards. With a grunt, he carefully pushes himself to his feet, planting a hand on the tree to steady himself. He extends a hand to Hermann, who hesitates a moment before taking it. Newton’s hand is very warm despite the cold. Callused. Sturdy-feeling fingers.

Hermann is putting his phone in a box for the rest of the night.

They both turn at the sound of footsteps, Hermann snatching his hand away before Vanessa and Karla can draw close enough to see. At the sight of Newton’s bloody shirt and the handkerchief up his nose, their eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” Vanessa exclaims, “what happened?” To Newton, she asks, “Are you okay?”

Newton nods, “Yeah, just didn’t look where I was going. Hermann helped me out. Are you guys with him?”

“I’m his twin, Karla,” says Karla, and nods at Vanessa, “This is Vanessa, my girlfriend.”

Newton’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, she’sー” He looks to Hermann, then Vanessa, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I saw you two in the library once, and the way you were sitting I kinda assumed…”

“We just pretend to propose to each other at restaurants to get free dessert.” Vanessa clarifies, then points a finger at Newton, “You’re the baby genius, right? You taught my physiological psychology class. I diagnosed you with mommy issues in the discussion board.”

Newton makes a face between recognition and embarrassment, “You did do that. Yep. Anyway.”

“‘Baby genius’?” Karla echoes, “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

Vanessa does a dry spit take, “Hello?! We’re a year older than you!”

Newton gives Hermann a quick, unreadable glance, looking oddly delighted at this, “Oh. Really? Cool! I started college when I was thirteen, so I didn’t get to hang out with people, y’know, _my age_ for a while.”

_That sorts the ethics, then _, thinks Hermann. He doesn’t quite know where the thought came from. It’s impossible to tell.__

__“I _am_ terribly sorry about your nose.” he finds himself saying, suddenly eager not to leave, “Would you like to accompany us to dinner? We were going to find something to eat,” he checks Karla and Vanessa’s expressions (they look far too pleased to be reassuring, but no matter), “and I imagine you must be hungry as well.”_ _

__Newton’s face lights up, and Hermann despairs for his future dignity.  
“Holy shit, yeah! Yeah, uh, lemme just let my boss know I’m injured and leaving and shit, and get my stuffー oh shit.” He looks down at his shirt, the opposite of presentable for any setting besides this one, and frowns. “Uh. I think I remember where I left my coat.”_ _

__Without thinking, Hermann says, “Oh, here,” and removes his coat, then his outer-outer sweater. He’ll be fine. There’s another and the vest over his button down. He still feels rather whorishー it’s a bit exciting._ _

__Newton’s eyes go wide, and a smear of light pink dusts his freckled cheeks. He takes the offered garment awkwardly, but quickly puts it on. It’s large in the arms and length, tight in the torso, and Hermann thinks his body temperature has never been higher in his life. He clears his throat._ _

__“Right. There you go. Shall we meet out front?”_ _

__Newton nods, his fingers grasping the cuffs and fidgeting with them. It’s very endearing. “Yeah, sure! See you guys in a few.”_ _

__He starts off towards the door from which they came, halts, then dashes back for his chainsaw. Raising it in the air, he shouts, “Almost forgot!” Hermann gives him a little wave._ _

__There’s a sniffle from next to him, and Hermann braces himself as he turns. Vanessa wipes away a mock-tear. “I just want you to know,” she says dramatically, “that I have never been more proud of you.”_ _

__“Do shut up.”_ _

__“You’re going to ‘forget’ he borrowed that sweater, aren’t you?” Karla says wryly. Hermann smacks her ankle with his cane._ _

__He hates it when they’re not wrong._ _


End file.
